A - D - G - DA D >From Boston to Southshore on the back of the busG D It's the last winter storm of the season and suchA D And I'm lost to the fiction of the book in my lapG D The snow makes me drowsy while the dreams roll and tumbleA D And it's a long way to Texas it's a long way back homeG D and it's a three hour flight on the plane when I goA D away from the snow from Boston to SouthshoreG D Where the dreams roll and tumble and bring the prose to the wheel CHORUSA D Bring the prose to the wheelG I'm not drivin these wheelsD I'm not drivin these wheelsA D Bring the prose to the wheelG I'm not drivin these wheelsD I'm not drivin these wheels And that face in the window is one I should know But it's never been haloed by New England snow And the child across the aisle is sleeping away While the soldier behind me lets his dreams roll and tumble my way CHORUSA D G D A D G D . . .today This cradle of the interstate so weary of dreams The hurt that they cause us is now restless it seems Oh soldier dear soldier you keep your dreams to yourself My heart's rolled and tumbled until I put it on the shelf
Im Not Drivin
Nanci Griffith
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Tom: